Kill to Be Famous
by Usagibuffy
Summary: Grissom, Warrick, Sara, Catherine, Nick, and Brass investigate the murders of a young rock star's family. Could the killer have been someone she knows and trusts?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. I do own Kirsty Daniels, her family, and the Great Eight.

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Kill to be Famous

9:24 pm, Saturday, January 19, 2002

The black Chevy Tahoe squealed to a stop in front of a one-story brick home in an upper middle class suburb of Las Vegas. The yellow crime scene tape and plethora of police cars made it clear the innocuous looking house was the scene of a crime.

"Nice stop, Sara," tall dark-skinned Warrick Brown commented to the driver from the back seat. Sara Sidle turned and threw her colleague a good-humored glare. The two crime scene investigators climbed out of the vehicle, grabbing their black field kits on the way and started up the path to the front door.

"My driving's better than yours," the dark-haired woman informed Warrick matter-of-factly. His protest was interrupted by the voice of the CSI supervisor, Gil Grissom. Grissom didn't bother with pleasantries, instead jumping right into an explanation.

"This house is the scene of a quadruple homicide," he informed Warrick and Sara as he led them past the yellow tape and into the home, straight into the master bedroom. "First victims: Gerald and Eleanor Daniels, 45 and 44 years old, respectively. Married 23 years, he's a casino manager, she's a housewife." The two CSI's took in the scene silently, then followed Grissom out and into the bedroom across the hall. 

The first thing that struck Sara was the innocence of the room. Posters of unicorns, horses, and some Japanese cartoon characters decorated the walls. A papa-san chair in the corner was overflowing with stuffed animals. A young woman, appearing to be in her late teens, lay on the bed in the room. She could have been sleeping peacefully, except for the hole in her temple. Blood and gray brain mater covered the pillow and a nearby wall.

"Third victim, Gretchen Daniels, daughter, eighteen years old. Freshman at UNLV. Single gunshot wound to the head. Looks like our killer had something against dogs too," he added, gesturing to the other side of the room. The limp form of a cocker spaniel lay on the floor, blood matting the light brown hair on its side. Sara and Warrick followed Grissom down the hall a short distance to the last victim's bedroom.

"Fourth victim: Justin Daniels, twelve years old. He was a seventh grader at George Washington Middle School. According to his sister, he was a computer genius. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head; he probably never saw it coming." By this time, Sara had pulled out her camera and was photographing the boy slumped over his keyboard. Warrick looked curiously at his supervisor.

"Sister?"


	2. Chapter 2

CSIs Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes had been assigned to talk to the young woman who found the bodies. They spotted Homicide Detective Jim Brass standing awkwardly next to a police cruiser, where a young blond sat in the back, hands over her face.

"That's probably her," Catherine pointed out to Nick. He nodded his agreement and they headed for the car. Brass saw them approaching and met them halfway.

"That the girl who found them?" Catherine asked, gesturing to the girl in the car.

"Yeah, the daughter," Brass confirmed. "She's really shaken up." Catherine started walking towards the car again, Brass and Nick trailing behind. The young blond looked up as they approached, wiping tears from her red-rimmed eyes. Brass took the moment of silence as an opportunity to introduce the three.

"Catherine Willow, Nick Stokes, meet Kristen Daniels, trumpet player for the rock band _The Great Eight_." Kirsten managed a shaky smile as she corrected Brass.

"_Kir_sten," she corrected, pronouncing it "Kerr-sten." "But my friends – and fans – call me Kirsty."

Nick's mouth dropped open in amazement.

"The…the Great Eight?" he stammered. "Wow! You guys are awesome, I love your music…" He trailed off as Catherine put a hand on his arm, bringing him back to reality. Kirsty just smiled shyly.

"Why don't you tell us what happened this evening," Catherine coaxed gently, bringing them all back to the matter at hand. The smile dropped off Kirsty's face and she lowered her head.

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*Flashback*

Kirsten Daniels tucked a lock of light blond hair behind her ear as she pulled her blue Kia Sportage into the driveway of her parents home. Yawning, she exited the vehicle and went around back to grab her trumpet. She'd had a busy couple of days; being a member of a world famous band was far from easy. As she entered the house, Kirsty heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime eight times, signaling 8 PM.

"Hello?" she called, as she dumped her things on the dining room table. There was no response. Frowning, Kirsty tried again. "Hey, where is everybody?" She peered out the window, counting cars. All four, including her own, were accounted for, meaning at least her sister and parents were home. The house was oddly silent though, except for the ticking of the clock. By now she was nervous about the continued quiet in the house, unusual for the active family.

Kirsty cautiously headed down the hallway to her parents' bedroom. The door was closed so she knocked, then slowly pushed it open, calling, "Mom? Dad? You guys in here?" She froze, horrified at the scene in the master bedroom.

Blood was splattered on the wall, ceiling, and floor around the king-size bed. In the bed were two blood-covered bodies. Without taking time to look at them, Kirsty bolted from the room, heading for her sister's room across the hall. That door was closed as well, but she flung it open, not bothering to knock. A similar scene greeted her. 

A wail erupted from her throat as she ran for the bedroom belonging to the last occupant of the house, her preteen brother. Kirsty skidded to a halt in front of his room. The door was slightly ajar and she carefully pushed it open, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her young brother was slumped over the keyboard in front of his computer, blood and gray mater decorating the screen. 

"Justy," she whispered, backing out of the room. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and dialed 911.

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*End Flashback*

"Ok," Catherine said, duly taking notes in a small notebook. "When was the last time you saw your family?" Kirsty wiped her eyes before answering.

"Um…yesterday. I saw Mom and Dad before I left at 4pm for our show last night at one of the clubs in New York New York. Justy wasn't home from school yet, he's got computer club on Fridays, but I saw him in the morning before he left for school." She paused a moment before continuing. "I haven't seen Gretchen since Wednesday evening. Her school schedule and my performance schedule don't coincide very well."

"Kirsty!" came a shout from across the lawn. Four heads swiveled to see a young man in jeans and a dark brown coat crossing the lawn. He was about 5'8", average build, with dark brown hair hanging about chin length. As they watched, he began arguing with a police officer who was trying to keep him outside the yellow tape. Nick watched wide-eyed.

"Hey, isn't that…" He was interrupted by Kirsty.

"Roddy!" she screamed, tears flowing anew as she leapt to her feet and ran towards him. The officer moved aside just in time to avoid being hit by the girl, who flung herself into Roddy's arms with enough force that he staggered back. He held tight to her, engulfing her in a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing.

Catherine, Brass, and Nick watched the two for a moment, then Brass turned to Nick.

"Ok, now who is that?"

"Roddy Sharp," Nick replied, still watching Roddy comfort Kirsty. "He's one of the guitar players for the Great Eight."


End file.
